Sharing Christmas
by SpecialAgentZiva
Summary: He lowers his arm and moves behind her desk to beside her. She stares at him, confused, as he slides to the floor and uses the jackets as blankets, yawning. Of course he's tired. She's tired, too. "We should both go home," she tells him.


**A/N: I don't really know where this came from, but this is a day late Christmas present/fic for you guys. I hope you enjoy, I had fun writing it. :) I don't own NCIS, fyi.**

She won't understand it later.

He doesn't blame her.

It's just past midnight, no longer Christmas Eve, and they're still in the office. Neither of them really have a place to go today. Neither of them want to leave, though, because this is the closest place to home that they have. So they type useless reports for incidents that aren't even real, and they stare across the squadroom, wondering who will leave first. Who will admit that they, truly, have nothing to do today.

She has an excuse. She does not celebrate Christmas, he knows, but he also knows that she will celebrate for the team. She will give gifts and laugh with the rest of them, even if she does not believe. And he doesn't hold a grudge because, in truth, Christmas lost meaning to him a long time ago. He's only had the company of drunk women and too many shots for too long. He doesn't know why he's not in the same company tonight.

So the clock ticks by slowly, and when it hits one o'clock, he's had enough and so has she. He stands up, staring at her with such accusation in his eyes. She doesn't understand, but stands up as well.

"What?"

"It's Christmas," he says with a shrug. She puzzles over how flat his voice is.

"Yes," she remarks, nodding. "It's been Christmas for an hour, Tony."

"Merry Christmas?" he offers. He's not sure why he stood up anyway. He just stares at her, and when she doesn't say anything, he crosses the distance between their desks and leans too casually against hers. "Why are we here?" he whispers.

"I…" she cannot think of an answer. He is amused, if only for a second. Ziva, the ninja, the intelligent, the logical, is at loss for an answer. But he doesn't blame her on this, either. He cannot answer his own question.

"Because it is Christmas and neither of us have anywhere to go," she says flatly. "Gibbs is out of town. McGee is with his family. Abby is… wherever Abby is. Ducky is visiting his mother's grave. And we're here."

"Why don't you go home?" he tells her, grabbing her jacket and holding it out to her. She doesn't accept it, only looks at it, until he rolls his eyes, smiles a bit and removes his own jacket. He holds this out to her as well, but she doesn't take it either, and his smile falters.

"Why do you not go home?" she shoots back, still eyeing his jacket. She can't explain why, but it looks strangely inviting. Warmer than hers, at least, but it's his, and she can't let him go home without a jacket.

"I don't know," he answers with a shrug. "Something tells me I should be here."

He lowers his arm and moves behind her desk to beside her. She stares at him, confused, as he slides to the floor and uses the jackets as blankets, yawning. Of course he's tired. She's tired, too.

"We should both go home," she tells him, but she's uncertain now, her voice faltering. "Tony, we should go home."

But he's not listening to her. His eyes are closed and he's breathing slowly, but she knows he's not asleep. She knows what he's doing. He's done it before, she remembers, like in Paris, when she'd thought he was asleep. But now was not a hotel in Paris, this was NCIS, and she would not… would she?

Yes she would, she tells herself. He is her partner and there is nothing wrong with sharing Christmas with him.

Still fighting a mental battle, she forces herself to slide down beside him, her shoulder pressed into his. She finds herself yawning and watches a huge smile appear on his face as he drapes the jackets across both of them now. His jacket is mostly on her, she notices instantly, and she likes it.

"Merry Christmas, Zi," he whispers, opening his eyes a little bit and turning his head towards her. She turns her head towards him as well and they only stare, silently communicating. Finally, she lets herself into temptation and puts her head down on his shoulder. He smiles even wider and lays his head on hers.

And they fall asleep like this, behind the desks.

When they wake up, her head is still on his shoulder, but his hand has worked its way around her and she is just a little bit in his lap. They don't really notice at first. But they do notice the snow falling outside the window, and realize: this is really Christmas.

This is the first real Christmas he's had in a long time, even if it's in an office with his work partner.

This is the first real Christmas she's ever had, even if it's in the company of a man like him.

This is the first real Christmas of many to come, and every time, they are closer, meeting with eyes and hands and eventually lips. This is their first real Christmas, and they wouldn't trade it for any other.

From now on, he decides, he loves Christmas, as long as she's there.

And, secretly, she thinks the same.


End file.
